I feel my boundaries, but discover
I have none
No frame of light can stop me so I bend
To listen, for I know no better grace than pressing
An ear to the earth, cradled inward,
Like a dream, where others walk and have walked,
Their footsteps, a crowd of drums.
I know their ways and weights gathering
Into the soft spaces, sinking.
And as a woman I stand at your opening,
New Moon, bleeding, because I too am full
To the brim with mystery and strength
Gained from marching across
The river to the Underworld–
That Other Night.